by Dialecticdreamer/Sarah Williams
part 1 of 1, complete
word count (story only): 1174
:: This story takes place the morning after “Temporary Neighbors,” (part one and part two) ::
Edwina was just about to open the door to leave the boarding house when she realized that there were two large men waiting outside. She opened the door a fraction, setting her foot and surreptitiously shifting her weight to keep the door in position. “May I help you?” she asked in a warm, slightly vacuous tone.
“Are you the landlady?” the man on the left asked.
“Oh, no, she's still doing the washing up from breakfast,” Edwina gathered half a breath and forced herself to twitter like her aunt.
“We'd like to speak with her,” the man answered. “It's in regards to fire insurance.” Beside him, the silent one crossed his arms.
Fear darted from the back of Edwina's throat downward in a sharp, acidic spike. “If you would wait a moment, please, I'll ask her to come to the porch.”
( Read more... )
I'm teaching my brother how to vid, and he wants to make a Stargate vid, and I figured one of the things I should do is introduce him to the extant fannish vidding culture and also it'd be fun just have a vid watching party.
While there's a lot I could post about, doing so won't change much - it would just add to a sea of voices that gets tuned out - or is that "drowned out" - on the regular by the minority, a Sad! state of affairs (I'm still trying to grasp how it's even possible, but yeah, somehow it is).
But after being reminded of this (the Orangado, among other things, boasting he gave the best damn Congressional speech eva!!!1!) I recalled having something to say about that. I watched the entire thing live on TV for however long it took, maybe two hours? Four? Five? It felt that long, because I'm not someone to sit around and watch him because I want to, but because I want to know.
Unlike most people, I'm nearly incapable of misunderstanding him (see word salads that flummox the world getting tossed for yourself) if only because he talks like the neighborhood one side of my family comes from (apparently the poor linguistics jumped the dividing highway more easily than the high incomes ever will - its kinda Sad! what's happened to the other side of Jamaica, Queens) so I figured I might be doing everyone a favor by tuning in, just in case I needed to go and get what he'd said again for other people's sakes.
MM the Trump interpreter, yeah. I get word salad, yo.
So, because mostly I get it, and rarely, if ever, fail to (as awful or completely bs as what I'm "getting" might be/generally is), I wanted to hear what he had to say with my own ears, no interpreting it for me the next morning thankyouverymuch. But no need to worry about word salad: he mostly delivered a canned speech from which he never once deviated nor went off-script. Which tells us a few things:
He can follow - and perform beautifully from - a script (at least, as long as S. Bannon or S. Miller aren't writing it for him. Their speeches would fall flat no matter who delivers them, because no one - except maybe a small subset of his darkest, most extraordinarily cracked followers - wants to hear all that Grim Reaper bullshit, anyhow). Yay!
I mean his performance was lush, it was gorgeous, it would make the showiest Declaration of Independence signer blush with recognition and cry over just how damn good his delivery was. It made some of Bill Clinton's most fiery speeches look like boring little fireside chats. The head Cheeto set a high bar for himself re how to perform, then blew past it and left everyone's expectations in the dust. It was, oh God... *winces as mocking tic comes on* THE GREATEST THE BEST EVER
By contrast, nothing he's said or done in the days before or since his speech has matched a single word he said throughout it. There's only a few ways to go from here:
- Cheetolini is blustery insincerity at its best. He can put on a show (likely for his daughter Ivanka, who likely had a huge hand in the wording of said speech), which should disabuse anyone of the notion he's incapable of thinking and acting deliberately or that he only knows how to react impulsively and without thought. He simply chooses not to think and plan his words and actions out most of the time, finding intellectual laziness vastly preferable to taking the time to learn the issues and act accordingly, from a place of both knowledge and principles. Or even, as he's so freaking fond of saying, with "heart".
- My takeaway: He might be willfully ignorant but he's not stupid.
- If he's impeached and eventually removed from office - as he should be - his public speaking gigs could rack up gagillions until he finally succumbs to his latest McDonald's treat - which I've got pegged as occurring no sooner than 10 years from now. Patience, peeps: I think the tears and prayers of the fundies are what's keeping him alive - it's certainly not the diet, sleep schedule, nor his stress levels.
- He has no relationship with the truth. Saying things he doesn't mean and bloviating oh-so-sincerely on topics he doesn't give a rat's ass about might be his way of jiving, maybe so the Dems - and his daughter in particular - can never accuse him of not saying something they/she wanted to hear, though what he actually thinks and feels is almost inevitably up to the last bidder against his emotional landscape or else up to his own particular whims.
I think I might feel sorry for his daughter Ivanka. He's manipulating her as cleverly as he tries to manipulate the rest of us, but because she's his daughter there's very little she can do (the rest of us can protest, make jokes, call/write/fax Congress - she has little choice but to keep quiet or lose face by admitting she's been wrong about him - which risks losing her inheritance and winning ostracization from the entire line of Cheetolini products, which I'd imagine she'd never willingly endure).
It seems Ivanka has a very fine line to walk: she can be as honest with him in private as she wants (so she says!) but if his public decisions don't even resemble the promises he's made, there's nothing she can do except shrug and move on - or else risk the loss of all she has at stake.
Luckily for her, she can afford to lose ideological battles with her dad. As a self-employed, rich, white, cis-gendered woman, she gets to skirt 99% of the problems the rest of us can often face: racism, poverty, classism, misogynistic effects upon her career and public persona, lack of health care, lack of reasonable housing choices, lack of reasonable child care choices, lack of equal standing under the law, over-taxation - her money, skin color, and apparent sexual orientation and gender identification confers 99% of the protections she needs but would not otherwise have as a citizen of her father's increasingly racist, ableist, classist, bigoted, elitist United States.
So while her dad might pander to her in private and has done so publicly with one grab-ya-by-the-collar-and-shake-ya-
You can't unbullshit a bullshitter - that's the reality all of us, including Ivanka, will just have to deal with.
Without much ado about nothing,
- Selling our old house. The deal hasn't closed yet, but it seems unlikely that there will be any problems now that the inspection period has ended.
- Getting closer to buying our new house on Whidbey Island. We could still turn up something fatal during our due diligence period, but we have decided to stay with Whidbey in any case.
- A mortgage close to getting approved.
- Enough income, even in retirement, to get a mortgage.
- Good friends close by our new house.
- Retirement. To be honest, I am not entirely thankful for this; I will greatly miss being surrounded by brilliant people. Ask me next week.
- My family of choice. In which I include not only my sister of choice but my darling wife. Both of these amazing women have chosen to live with me. I'm not entirely sure why, but I'm going to shut up and enjoy the ride.
To ~reward~ myself for getting a daily wordcount again I went ahead and got some historic low-price games from the Squeenix Spring Sale. Not as much as I wanted, ofc, but walking away with four games for < $12 is pretty damn good. And one of those games went to my mother, so whoop whoop.
ANYWAY since Origin isn't working right now because it requires an update and the client won't update on this current connection (waiting until my data renews on the 30th, then I can get it going again) I'm just having Steam download Gyromancer cos hey 150mb, then will let it continue with FF9. I immediately queued Murdered: Soul Suspect after getting it today and already have Dishonored and Arkham Asylum on the DQ from a few weeks ago, so it's not like I'm hurting for games to waste my internet time on downloading.
I've also had some level 5 or so randos add me out of nowhere on steam, and when I refuse the invite they try again. I checked their profiles and every single one of them has swastikas and shit in their profile comments so they can "lol meme", so I just made my profile private for a bit.
White Supremacists will get bored and go bother someone else, they always do. But god damn, I wish I knew what it was that put me on their radar so I could yank it away from them :/
The twos in tarot are all about balance. The two of pentacles, in particular, is about balance of earthly things – wealth, business, and communication most specifically. Here we have an astronaut who is balanced in space, indicating the rich-looking, pentacle-adorned space ship she is attached to, and a satellite, which represents communication and more spiritual needs. It can be a tricky balance, complicated even further by blazing rocket boots! The infinity symbol from the traditional Rider Waite deck is hinted at in the curve of her tether, implying that the figure in question can handle an unlimited number of problems. Below her, a cold-war Russia and Alaska face each other under aurora-lit skies, representing outside conflicts.
This card cautions us to manage our time well, and encourages us to remember that if we do, we can handle all the things life throws at us.
This piece was an experiment from start to finish. I wanted a crisp, vintage look, and painted over my linework with acrylic before realizing that I had completely obscured my lines. Not daunted, I printed out my linework scan and colored it with Copic markers, then cut it carefully out by hand. That was the really sharp feeling I was going for! A few touches with colored pencil and gelpen were made at the very end. The original is 9x12, acrylic, marker, ink, and the kitchen sink (including glittler glue), and it's available for $200, US shipping included.
The Kickstarter to fund this deck is on NOW! It only runs one more week, and has already funded, so if you want to snag one of these gorgeous decks, this is your best chance: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/
Have some art!
Available at Portrait Adoption! http://portraitadoption.com/portrait.
I've also got a poem up at Torn World today, this one reserved for supporters. http://www.tornworld.net/storypageview.
You can sponsor it to the public for $5 (EMG or Torn World credits accepted!), or get a subscription that will allow you access to all of this: http://www.tornworld.net/suplist.php - as well as several bonus downloads of high res files in the gallery.
Guppy and I are watching Equestria Girls for the eight hundredth time, because I'm too worn out to play.
2. A song you like with a number in the title
1941 -- Klaypex
Follow the beat and let it ring
...So every other song to jump to mind for this was horribly depressing, but this one is like the exact opposite; it's move music. Also I first found it through a goddamn beautiful Agent Carter vid that is in my top-five-ever favorite vids list.
( The rest of the meme. )
by Lyn Thorne-Alder
Tuesday, October 3, 2000
“That don’t mean I have to like it!” Howard wasn’t quite bellowing, but it was a close call. Arnbjörg looked up from the onions she was chopping just in time to see Magnolia put a soothing hand on his arm.
“He’s not gonna hurt her, Howard, honey, and he’s certainly not gonna do any lasting damage. I know she’s your friend—”
The characters uh. Have something to do with wyste's ongoing very long fanfic. That is, ah,
are completely original. Really.
Jaime had gotten himself “arrested” by simply being in the wrong (right) place at the wrong (right) time, an occurrence that had been happening far too much lately. A suggestion that he happened to be maybe A Little Bit Magical had gotten him put in the right cells, and then it had taken just four or five mundane tricks to assure that he wasn’t actually stuck in the cell.
It sounded simple if you didn’t think about the weeks of planning and four people worth of preparation that had gone into this, all of which had involved quite a bit of arguing, more than a bit of negotiation, and a tiny bit of blackmail.
Jaime had gotten his mission. Now he just had to get out of it.
And the lock was proving slightly more tricky than he’d expected.
He was swearing quietly at the door when it swung open. He slid his lockpicks up his sleeves and tried to look disgruntled and imprisoned.
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